


Cooking Together

by robindrake93



Series: Fluffcember 2020 [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Grinding, Hermes Is A Romantic, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, POV Third Person, Post-The Trials of Apollo, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robindrake93/pseuds/robindrake93
Summary: Hermes comes over unexpectedly and cooks Percy dinner.
Relationships: Hermes/Percy Jackson
Series: Fluffcember 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035222
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	Cooking Together

**Author's Note:**

> Percy is 19. 
> 
> Don't reupload/repost my fics.

Percy truly wasn’t expecting Hermes to show up at his doorstep. Hermes and Percy were on good terms but the god never stopped by unless he wanted something. Percy hoped that Hermes wasn’t here to send him on a quest. He really didn’t want to go on one. 

“Good evening, Percy. May I come in?” Hermes asked. He was handsome as usual, looking like a male model. Instead of his usual outfits, Hermes wore black pants and a gray knitted sweater. The knit pattern resembled feathers with the quills pointed up. 

Percy leaned against the doorframe as he considered. He hadn’t had company in a long time, and certainly no one Greek. It might be nice to have the company. “Are you going to send me on a quest?” 

A flicker of amusement crossed Hermes’ face. It did not erase the exhaustion there. “No. There will be no quests.” 

“Then you may come in,” Percy said and stepped aside. 

The smile that Hermes flashed him was grateful. “How have you been?” He slipped his shoes off beside the door and padded in stocking feet deeper into the apartment. 

Percy cocked his head as his gaze followed Hermes. The god appeared to be heading toward the kitchen. “I’m alright.” He followed Hermes at a distance. 

Hermes did in fact go to the kitchen. Once in the room, he turned to Percy. “It’s late. Have you had dinner yet?” 

Percy shook his head. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Percy was hungry, though in winter his appetite slackened somewhat. It was always his time of resting. He said, “I could eat.” 

“I’ll make you dinner,” Hermes decided. He rolled up his sleeves, clapped his hands together and turned on his heel to survey the kitchen. After some poking around, Hermes produced food that Percy was almost positive that he didn’t have in his inventory. The god hummed as he began to gather ingredients for dinner. Percy didn’t recognize the tune. 

Percy watched Hermes move around the kitchen, preparing their dinner. He was fairly certain that Hermes couldn’t even eat human food. Well, the mystery wouldn’t solve itself just by staring at Hermes and Percy wasn’t entirely sure that he trusted the god to make something edible. Quietly, Percy slid in beside Hermes. “Let me help.” 

Hermes flashed him a smile that was difficult to interpret but Percy thought he was pleased by the offer. “Dice these herbs.” He pushed a cutting board piled with various herbs toward Percy. 

Percy recognized thyme and parsley but he didn’t know the rest of them. He took a knife from the butcher block and began chopping. 

While he did that, Hermes stuffed a little Cornish game hen with quail eggs. He rubbed skin with butter, let it grease his hands and wasn’t afraid of the mess. When he noticed that Percy was done, he elbowed a bowl of garlic cloves toward Percy. 

Percy knew that he didn’t have any of this food in his apartment. He couldn’t afford to eat so richly. The herbs were fresh and though the chicken was small, it cost about ten dollars; which was too much money for too little meat. Hermes must have been magicking the food to the apartment and Percy hoped that fae rules didn’t apply to gods. He minced the garlic. 

Hermes washed his hands. He stood at the sink, hands gripping the counter and head bowed. It looked like the weight of the world was on the god’s shoulders. 

Percy glanced at Hermes and frowned. He looked down at the food, considering what to do. If he should even do anything. Hermes affairs weren’t his business and it wasn’t his place to mettle. Percy really didn’t even want to; it could mean bad news for him. 

Before Percy could decide one way or another, Hermes turned back to him. He wore a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Done with that garlic, Percy?” 

Percy nodded. 

“Good. Mix it all in a bowl. Here’s some chicken broth.” This time Hermes did his magic in front of Percy, making a can of broth appear in his palm. 

Percy took the broth. He pulled the tab on the can and opened it, then poured it into a bowl. Percy added the garlic and herbs, then mixed it all together. 

Hermes nodded approvingly. He picked up the little chicken and put it in the bowl, holding it down until it was completely submerged. Next he picked up a lemon and ripped it in half. He squeezed both sides of the lemon, letting the juice fall into the bowl. “There. Now we’ve got to let that marinate for an hour.” 

What were they going to do for an hour? 

Percy hesitated, then put some water on the stove to boil. He made chai tea from scratch, the ingredients of which were the only extravagance he allowed himself. He did it largely because his mom liked it and had taught him to make it and while he was in California, Percy wanted to feel close to her. The ingredients went into a little glass tea pot. It was single serving but he didn’t think Hermes would want any. When the water was hot enough, Percy poured it into the teapot and watched as it turned to a shade of golden brown. He added a dash of honey for sweetness and a splash of milk to thicken it. 

Hermes watched this all with apparent fascination. He looked interested, eager to see what Percy would do next. “I’ve always loved watching you mortals make tea. So many combinations and you all like it prepared differently.” 

“You can’t drink it, can you?” Percy asked as he poured himself a cup. His teacup was crystal and looked like it had been carved from stone rather than having the appearance of a perfect, traditional teacup. 

Hermes sighed and shook his head no. “There was a time, when I was very young, that we could eat more than nectar and ambrosia. You know that I’ve partaken of Apollo’s sacred cows and Persephone has enjoyed the fruits of Hades’ pomegranate trees. But those times are no more.” 

Percy considered this. “Dionysus drinks Diet Coke,” he said. It was both a challenge and a question. 

Hermes’ lips twisted up in an amused smile, like Percy told a joke. “I can assure you that it’s nectar in those cans.” 

Percy sipped his tea to give himself time to think. It was hot and delicious and it filled him with nostalgic warmth. “Hermes,” Percy began, “why are you here?” 

“I wanted company,” Hermes said plainly. 

“What about the other Olympians? You know them better. They’re your family and I’m just a demigod. Wouldn’t you want to be with them?” 

Hermes gave Percy an indecipherable look. “Percy, I have known the Olympians for thousands of years and I will know them for thousands more. They’re familiar to me. They’re like Greek Fire, a constant burning green flame. But you? You’re a blue flame among the green, burning very hot and lovely and for only a short while. I would rather spend my time with you because yours is limited.” 

Percy couldn’t decide if Hermes was disgustingly poetic and borderline romantic, or if he was eloquently insulting and presumptive. He stared into his teacup so that he didn’t have to look at the god. His mortality was something he didn’t care to think of, though he’d had to often enough in the past. Did Hermes think of everyone as fire? Did he see Luke as a burning golden star? Or May as a tender red flame? Finally, Percy settled on asking, “Why me?” 

Hermes tilted his head just slightly, studying Percy. “When you saw the Fates cut Luke’s life thread, what were they knitting?” 

Now it was Percy who tilted his head, showing his confusion. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten, it was that he didn’t understand why Hermes brought it up. “A pair of socks. Why?” 

Hermes smiled sadly. “A pair of socks,” he echoed. “Why not a sweater? Or a scarf? Even a blanket.” 

Percy stayed silent. He wasn’t sure he liked where this conversation was going. He set his empty teacup down. 

“A pair of socks because you and Luke were soulmates. Your Fates were so intertwined that they were woven into a pair.” Percy must have made a face because Hermes’ smile turned wry. “Don’t give me that look. Soulmates don’t have to be romantic, though if you’d been older I wouldn’t have been surprised if that’s the way it went.” 

Percy looked away. He didn’t like thinking about what might have happened with Luke if things had gone differently. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“I took an interest in you because Luke was my favorite son. I loved him more than Pan, more than the demigod children that came before or after him,” Hermes said. His admittance was not a surprise. “Now, Luke is gone. Excuse the metaphor, but he’s the lost left sock.” 

“And I’m still here. A replacement.” Percy didn’t like the idea of Hermes using him to replace Luke. Though he now shared a lot of Luke’s beliefs and had even taken on his role at Camp Half-Blood, Percy wasn’t Luke. 

Hermes shook his head. “No. Not a replacement. You’re your own person, Percy.” His brow furrowed and he said, “I’m explaining badly.” Never before had Percy seen Hermes at a loss for words. Now the god could barely get out what he was trying to say. He crossed the kitchen to stand in front of Percy. Hermes took both of Percy’s hands in his. “You can’t replace my son and I don’t want you to. You and Luke were two sides of the same coin, I’ll admit that’s what drew me to you in the first place. But now you’re...more to me than just my son’s soulmate.” 

Percy looked down at their joined hands. He closed his eyes and sent a vague prayer to anyone who was listening. When he opened his eyes again, he met Hermes’ gaze. 

There was tenderness in the god’s expression. Hermes was more human than the other gods because he spent so much more time walking among mortals. Everyone knew that Hermes was fond of Percy; even his children knew that Hermes favored Percy over them and that if Percy asked on their behalf, Hermes was more likely to grant their wishes and answer their prayers. 

If he had to fall in with a god, this one was his preferred choice. Percy sighed as he leaned back against the counter. He exerted pressure as he tugged on Hermes hands, a silent request for cooperation. Percy was strong - stronger even than most demigods - but even he couldn’t force a god unwilling to move. 

Hermes pressed forward, lining his hot, muscular body up with Percy’s. Their hands hung at their sides, fingers still interlocked. His eyes were so blue - the blue of Luke’s eyes, the blue of Percy’s life thread - and so compelling. 

The counter dug into Percy’s lower back. He barely noticed, too drawn into those blue eyes to care. Percy hooded his eyes, tipped his face up. 

Hermes was only a few inches taller than him - didn’t tower over him like other gods - so all he had to do was incline his head and dip his face so that their lips met. His mouth was warm and soft against Percy’s. 

Until that moment, Percy hadn’t realized that he expected Hermes to be as cold and hard as marble. This was the first time that they’ve ever touched skin on skin and Percy didn’t make a habit of touching gods’ skin. For all that Hermes wasn’t human, it felt like he was one. The thrill of realizing that Hermes felt like a man, that he was not untouchable and distant, had Percy groaning in the back of his throat. 

Hermes pressed more firmly against Percy’s body. His kiss turned deep and eager now that there was no uncertainty between them. He freed one hand to cup Percy’s face while they kissed. His palm was warm, his fingertips calloused. There was a sense of care, of holding back. 

Percy didn’t normally derive pleasure from the idea that another person could break him without even trying to, but Hermes showed such obvious restraint that the notion thrilled Percy. He kissed Hermes eagerly, tongue swiping across Hermes’ lip and then into his hot, wet mouth when access was granted. Hermes tasted indescribably good; so much so that Percy’s mouth watered and the kiss got sloppy. 

Hermes made a pleased noise in the back of his throat. He withdrew his other hand from Percy’s and placed both of them on either side of Percy’s neck, fingertips on his pulse points. Just as Percy’s lungs were beginning to ache and his head was beginning to spin, Hermes pulled away. His mouth was shiny with saliva. He kissed Percy’s cheek, and his jaw, and then his neck. 

Percy closed his eyes and craned his neck to give Hermes better access. The god’s lips felt good against his skin and made him want to know just how tender a lover Hermes was. There was no hiding his arousal and attraction; and Percy wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. He pushed his hips against Hermes’. 

That got a reaction. Percy felt the swelling of Hermes cock as the god responded to him. Hermes pushed back, rolling his hips against Percy’s. They lined up almost perfectly. Heat gathered between them as they kissed and ground against each other. Hermes’ mouth replaced his fingertips, gently taking Percy’s skin between his teeth and sucking bruises into it, still so careful not to hurt Percy. 

Hermes’ mouth felt so good against his skin, sending bolts of pleasure straight to his cock. Percy threaded his hands through Hermes’ curly black hair as his pleasure built. He was delighted by how silky soft Hermes’ hair was. His breath came faster as they rolled their hips, grinding against each other with short thrusts. 

After a while of decorating Percy’s neck with love bites, Hermes raised his head. He said, “The hen is done marinating. We should cook it. You need to eat.” His tone of voice said that he expected a bit of a fight from Percy. 

Percy was more than happy to fight Hermes on this. It wasn’t like the oven was even on to roast the bird. It would keep if they left it for a while. The truth was that Hermes wasn’t the only one who was lonely; Percy hadn’t had company in a very long time and certainly not this type of company. He was lonely for contact and connection. If Hermes was willing to provide relief, Percy was going to take it. Percy kissed Hermes as he directed the god’s hand to the tent in his jeans. The pressure felt so good that Percy’s eyes slid closed again. 

Hermes squeezed and rubbed his hand against Percy’s clothed erection, a gesture that was almost automatic. He pushed in close, trapping his hand between their bodies. “The hen -“ he tried again. 

“I think that hen needs to marinate for another hour,” Percy interjected. He opened his eyes to gaze into the glacial blue of Hermes’ eyes. “Take me to bed,” he said. “And you can feed me after.” 

“Well, when you put it like that, I suppose the hen can marinate for a bit longer.” Hermes kissed the soft spot below Percy’s ear. “Lead the way, Percy.” 

Percy took Hermes' hand and led him to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing can convince me that Luke and Percy weren't soulmates. Sometimes I wonder why Rick made the writing choices he did. Why two blue socks? Why Percy who saw the life string being cut?


End file.
